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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940727">But Why Fruit Cake?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryMama/pseuds/RaspberryMama'>RaspberryMama</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, SPNChristmasBingo, fruit cake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:35:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryMama/pseuds/RaspberryMama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates fruit cake but you make him taste yours. Can a fruit cake change your relationship?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But Why Fruit Cake?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for the <a href="https://spnchristmasbingo.tumblr.com/post/635600538878230528/spn-christmas-bingo-rules">SPN Christmas Bingo Challenge</a>! For this particular piece, I used the "fruit cake" square.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"All right. Everyone out of my kitchen!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffs, "<em>your</em> kitchen?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stubbornly hold your ground. "You want dessert later or not?" You sit there awaiting his next move. You can see the wheels turning in his head. Argue about who the bunker's kitchen belongs to? Or get the hell out so that you don't deprive him of whatever you've got planned? He snatches his water on the way out the door. You chuckle to yourself as you retrieve all your ingredients.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You're folding in the last of your ingredients into the mixing bowl when Dean returns. He raises his hands in your direction, "I just need more water. To the sink and right back out," he promises. You roll your eyes and return to your work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking past you, you feel Dean graze a hand across your back as he looks over your shoulder. "What's that?" he asks with some concern in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocking your hip to one side and rolling your eyes, you sigh. "I'm making a fruit cake - if you must know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face contorts into a grimace. "A fruit cake?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your head to face him, not realizing he's only a couple of inches from your face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, that mouth... </span>
  </em>
  <span>You quickly recover yourself. Deadpanning, "Yes, Dean. A fruit cake."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You actually like those 2-pound bricks that stores pretend should be in the bakery section?" His look of disgust makes you laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking your head, "No, absolutely not! Those are the worst!" You can't help but giggle a little more. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is Icebox Fruit Cake. So much tastier. Just pop it in the fridge for a while and then take it out and slice. Easy peasy." He looks into the bowl as you make a few more swipes with your silicone spatula. "Trust me, it's actually good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of running him out of the kitchen once more, you let him stay. He keeps out of the way, now on the other side of the prep table. He watches you grease a Bundt cake pan that he didn't even know was in the bunker. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he takes you in. "It's funny. You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a domestic person. Like, at all. But it's nice to watch you get into the holidays like this. Even if you did make the worst holiday dessert known to man."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scrunch up your face at the backhanded compliment. "You know how you say 'don't knock it until you try it?' That mantra can work outside of the bedroom, too, Dean," you tease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feigning distress, "you made </span>
  <em>
    <span>fruit cake!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Who does such a horrible thing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god, man! Come here!" you demand. He stays put for a moment before finally coming over. You pinch a small piece of the mixture. "Try it." He gives you a tight shake of his head accompanied by pulling his classic sturgeon face in protest. "Don't be a baby! It's safe to eat now. It's just better chilled. Come on, you can do it," those last words sound as if you're talking to an infant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resigned, he wraps his lips around your fingers before you have a chance to pull them back. You can feel Dean's tongue push between your two fingers before it pulls the mixture away from them. You let out the smallest of squeaks involuntarily. And there he goes, cocky as ever. He lets out an exaggerated, sinful moan. "Damn, girl. You were right. That is good!" he exclaims before trying to steal another pinch. "I need another taste."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh! No!" you playfully shout as you swat his hand away. "It has to go into the refrigerator. Now... Back. Up," you order, placing plastic wrap over the Bundt pan before storing it in the fridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backs up a little bit, making sure you see him blatantly looking you over, pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth. "What do I win for being a good boy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" you blurt out through an unbelieving expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets closer to you again. "What?" he asks, leaning against the prep table, spreading his legs. His arm slides across the edge of the table toward you. His fingers grab the edge of your shirt, pulling back toward him. You don't immediately give in, though, so he moves closer to you before speaking again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Friends don't look at friends the way you look at me, and they sure as shit don't look at friends the way I do when you walk into the room." His fingers drop to the closest belt loop on your jeans and tugs at you once more. "Come here," the cockiness replaced with softness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This unexpected moment makes you thankful your skin doesn't flush red across your skin when being put on the spot. This is especially true since he clearly knew you've been looking at him all this time. You take one small step forward before stepping back again. "Dean, I live here. Things could end badly. I'd lose my friend. And my home," your eyebrows pinch together as you yammer out with concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean considers what you say briefly. "No matter what happens, this will always be your home. I guarantee that. I love you too much to do that to you." Your eyes shoot up to him. He's never said he loved you before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues as if he didn't just shock you. "Yes, we are absolutely fantastic friends, no doubt. But we already know each other's quirks of living together. A transition into dating would be a smooth process. I think so, anyway. Without any hesitation, I'm willing to take the chance." His finger is still hooked into your belt loop as he lightly grips your hip. "But... if you really aren't sure about us... I'll accept that. I'm not going to push. I just know you feel it too, and... I needed to put it out there. I don't want any 'what ifs,' you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean begins dragging his hand away from you, but your body follows it. He's grinning now, seeing you lean into him, planting yourself between his legs. Before he latches himself to your lips, you warn him, "Don't think you're going to get into my pants so easily, Dean Winchester. I deserve a first date at the very least" you laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth drops, pretending to be hurt by your words, "What're you insinuating? That I don't know how to date? I'll have you know that I'm gonna date the crap out of you!" He pulls your arms behind his neck as his lips brush yours. "But I'm not opposed to getting some sexy time with you, for the record," he jokes before kissing you deeply this time. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you read my story, I do hope you will leave a kudos or a little comment. Feedback goes a long way for me!</p><p>When it comes to any smutty chapters (this one doesn't of course), if you don't feel comfortable leaving a comment here, please feel free to send me a private message on Tumblr to tell me what you liked it! You can find me at <a href="https://raspberrymama.tumblr.com/">raspberrymama.tumblr.com</a> or do a quick search for @raspberrymama.  I swear I'm nice!</p><p>Thanks for reading! </p><p><strong>Special Note:</strong> Please do not copy or repost my written work anywhere, not even if you do give credit. If I want my works on other platforms, I will share them myself. Thanks for understanding!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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